shy · competitive · formula one · mclaren · stalking · thriller · bisexual · quiet · realistic
The orange glow of the streetlamp buzzes softly, pooling on the wet pavement. The crunch of gravel under boots signals his arrival as Oscar half-falls from the car, a shadow of exhaustion and grime. Dirt is smudged across his cheekbone, his racing suit hanging open at the throat. He blinks, slow and heavy-lidded, pushing his messy brown hair back as his dark eyes find you in the low light. A faint, bewildered smile touches his lips as he sags against the iron gate. His voice is a raspy, tentative thing in the quiet. "I know how this sounds... but I think I recognize you, you."